


every day I wonder

by kirargent



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cryptid Hunting, Cryptids, Cryptozoology, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: Lance has a stuffed-full backpack, a beanie pulled down over the tips of his ears, a blanket draped around his neck like a thick scarf, and his cell phone pressed to one ear. He looks like an idiot, and he’s being entirely too loud for a good cryptid hunt.





	every day I wonder

**Author's Note:**

> uuuuh warnings for swearing & mentions of recreational drug use ig!
> 
> title from saint phnx's "Death of Me," i listened to it like 70 times while writing this, the General Vibe is excellent.

 

 

An afterimage of topography lines burns in Keith’s vision even when he closes his eyes.

He’s been sitting staring at this map long enough for his ass to go numb and the coffee shop to close. He’s surprised he’s still allowed to be here. Pidge always lets him stay, but she’s sick.

It’s just Lance closing tonight, and he and Keith aren’t exactly close. Their interactions are an unfortunate side effect of simultaneous friendships with Pidge. Lance has an overkill friendliness that Keith doesn't know how to respond to; it means they snipe at each other a lot. It means Keith is surprised Lance let him stay after closing.

“Whatcha lookin’ for there, buddy?” asks a chipper voice.

Keith glances up. Lance has a broom handle in one hand and a curious pout on his mouth.

Keith’s eyes fall back to the map that’s etched into his retinas anyway. He sighs. “There’s a convergence of energy that indicates a creature in this area.” He gestures to more or less the entirety of the wooded area to the west of town. “There’s got to be something out there. It probably even has a den somewhere in these woods.” He drags a hand through his hair. “But I haven’t seen so much as a _glimpse_ of this thing.”

When Lance is uncharacteristically quiet, Keith looks up at him.

He has one thumb resting on his chin, eyebrows drawn together in thought. “What about the cave off that main deer trail?”

Keith’s entire body flicks hot, then cold. “The _what_.”

“Oh, come on.” Lance cocks a hip. “You’ve seriously never been there? Me and Hunk used to smoke up there like, all the time!”

With jerky motions, Keith gathers up his stack of printed pictures and news headlines and shoves them into his backpack, then slaps at his compass and ruler and tape and tosses them in, too. Scrambling for a marker with one hand while shoving his phone and headphones into his bag with the other, he says, “Circle it. Can you circle the cave on this map? Where can I find that deer trail?”

“Whoa there, cowboy.” Lance’s eyebrows are raised when Keith spares him a distracted glance. “Let me finish cleaning up in back and I’ll just take you, okay?” Keith stops cramming things into his bag. “It’ll be easier.”

Keith looks at him.

Let Lance come along on his cryptid hunt? _Lance?_

Keith narrows his eyes.

Lance wraps both hands around the broom and leans on it. “Look, I haven’t been up there in years. I’m not gonna be able to circle it for you. I’m afraid it’s my way or the highway on this one, pretty boy.”

Keith has not had a lead in a week.

The last time he saw Lance, Lance told him the 80's wanted its hairstyle back, and then gleefully made fun of him for ordering overly-sugared coffee.

Keith has not had a lead in a week.

“Fine,” Keith says. “But hurry up.”

With a roll of his eyes and a twirl of the broom, Lance turns and heads for the kitchen to finish closing up.

He’s gone for several minutes, at least two of which Keith spends pondering whether Pidge would stop speaking to him if he ditched Lance in the middle of the woods at night. He spends, not that he will under any circumstances admit it to anyone, a _brief_ portion of the time debating whether it would be better, if Lance gets too mouthy, to shut him up with a punch to the nose, or a kiss on the lips.

Lance returns minus an apron and plus a backpack, promptly leans down and unzips Keith’s bag, and begins digging through Keith’s shit.

Yeah. Keith’s thinking punching’s the way to go.

He says, “ _Hey_ ,” rather than defaulting to a left hook, mostly because he doesn’t want to see that blank expression on Shiro’s face that means he’s disappointed.

Lance lifts one hand in a _halt_ gesture, still pawing through Keith’s stuff. “This’ll just take a sec.”

“Lance.” Keith’s voice is low.

“Keith, I will literally fight you, but it’s not worth the time. Just cool it for two seconds, man.”

“You said _one_ second.”

Lance reaches the bottom of the backpack, stands up straight, and sniffs. “Yeah, this really won’t do." He drops Keith’s compass back into the bag with an upturned nose. “We’re gonna have to stop by my friend’s place on the way.”

Keith's mouth twists. “Hard no.”

Lance raises his eyebrows. “You really wanna go look for a cryptid in the dark _without_ Hunk’s expensive-ass video camera and night vision goggles?”

Keith glares at the cute little bells tied around the handle of the shop’s door. He says, “Fine.” He stands, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “But make it quick.”

“Oh, yeah? Or what, tough guy?” Lance says, but Keith is already out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

Lance has a stuffed-full backpack, a beanie pulled down over the tips of his ears, a blanket draped around his neck like a thick scarf, and his cell phone pressed to one ear. He looks like an idiot, and he’s being entirely too loud for a good cryptid hunt.

Keith bubbles with rage. How is it _Lance_ who’s filling in the missing piece of this hunt? Of all people. _Lance_.

Lance makes fun of him for believing in cryptids! Well. Lance makes fun of him for more or less _everything_. Lance is loud, rude, and filter-less, and Keith is absolutely thunderstruck that _this_ is who he’s following to a cave that might be the key to this puzzle.

At an inappropriate volume, his grainy voice bulldozing over the gentle thrum of the sounds of the woods at night, Lance is speaking with his friend Allura, a witch who’s spent time exploring this area.

Because, yeah. Lance not only happens to be friends with an outdoorsy tech nerd who lent them a high quality camera, a better compass than Keith owns, and the night vision goggles Keith’s currently wearing on his forehead—he also just so happens to be friends with a local witch who consults her own notes and confirms Keith's readings of weird energy in these woods. Because of course Lance—non-cryptid-hunter Lance—has more useful hook ups than Keith himself does. Of course, he fucking does.

Keith is comprised of two consuming emotions crammed, side by side, into his little human body. He’s soaring on pure delight, for one thing, because he has a good feeling about this. Tonight might be the night he finally finds what he’s been affectionately calling 'the Beast of Cetus Woods.’

He’s fucking pissed, for another thing. That  _Lance_ is the reason things are finally falling into place.

Lance eventually hangs up the phone but continues crashing along the narrow game trail with an impressive amount of noise until, stopping, he points out the dark smear of a cave’s mouth against blue-gray rock. Keith pushes past him, approaching with quiet steps.

The night is chill, its cold breeze an electric touch to Keith’s skin. His bones vibrate within him as he places his feet between scattered branches and dry leaves on patches of soft, quiet dirt.

He slips on the night vision goggles, blinking as the inside of the cave comes into green-hued focus.

The space isn't large; it’s maybe a few square yards in total. The ground is the same uneven rock as the walls, scattered here and there with piles of small animal bones. Keith’s heart patters faster in his ribs like a building rainstorm.

He backtracks, pushing up the goggles and letting his eyes handle the dappled gloom of the forest floor in the half moon’s light.

Lance’s blanket is spread on a flat-ish swath of forest floor, his backpack unzipped. He’s setting up the video camera on a tripod, aiming it at the mouth of the cave, tongue poked out the side of his mouth.

“I figured we could have a stakeout over here,” he explains, turning on the camera and retreating back to his blanket. “I gotta leave at like three, but we've got a few hours.”

Keith licks his lips. “That sounds,” he says, “good.”

He’s a little furious. For all the hours he’s spent on cryptid stakeouts, he’s never thought to bring a blanket. The bright blue fleece looks out of place in the middle of the woods, but also looks…soft. Keith scowls.

Lance sits cross-legged and pats the blanket beside him. Keith joins him without a word.

Lance digs in his considerably less full backpack, producing a big steel thermos and a brown paper bag.

The ground is cold through the blanket, but only mildly so. Keith tilts his head to follow the line of the camera to the cave’s maw, dark and quiet and empty.

With a rising puff of steam and a cheerful burbling, Lance pours dark liquid from the thermos into the lid-cup combo, handing it to Keith before screwing the cap back on the thermos to keep its contents warm. Keith sniffs the offered cup, warm, wet steam hitting his face.

It’s coffee.

A small smile pulls Keith’s mouth. “Thanks,” he says, only a little grudgingly.

Lance nods, digging into the paper bag with a rustle and retrieving, with a crinkle of plastic, a handful of individually wrapped pastries.

“Day olds,” he explains, holding up his fist of goodies.

Keith stares at him.

He brought—a blanket. Lance brought a blanket from the back of his car for them to sit on. And a bag of free pastries from work, and a thermos of fresh coffee, and a pair of fucking night vision goggles.

This whole night is a dichotomy of momentous and mundane. Tonight could be _the night_ , all because Pidge happened to be sick, and Lance used to get high in these particular woods, and he and Keith crossed paths at this particular moment in time.

The whole thing feels at once deeply fated and insignificant; culminating, yet coincidental.

Lance is just Lance, even if he did maybe just unlock this whole fucking case. His hair still pokes out ridiculously from under his beanie, and he’s way too loud, and his grin shows a crooked tooth on the bottom left.

“You gotta try this biscotti, dude,” Lance is saying, ripping open the plastic wrapping of a caramel-brown cookie. “Seriously, it’s fire. We just started stocking them.” He holds it out to Keith. “Here. Try it.”

Keith grabs him with a hand on each side of his jaw and kisses him.

Lance goes very still. He doesn’t move forward, but he doesn't pull away.

The skin of his jaw is warm and soft, the bones hard under Keith’s fingers. Keith catches Lance’s bottom lip in both of his own, holding it and slowly, slowly drawing back to release it. Lance’s mouth is soft and warm. Keith captures his top lip briefly, wanting to feel it, too, before pulling away.

The biscotti slides from Lance’s fingers and tumbles down a short incline, stopping against a tree trunk several yards downhill.

Keith sits back, grabbing for his backpack to pull out his map and ruler. “I’m thinking this thing is nocturnal, based on when the energy patterns are the strongest.” He grabs a pencil, smoothing out his map on the ground.

“Yo,” says Lance. “Hold up. We’re talking about that, actually. You just kissed me.”

Keith stops. He looks at Lance. “Right,” he says. “I’m…Look, did I make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” says Lance in a high-pitched voice. “It was…” He clears his throat. “Good? It was good. It was—fine. Please don’t…not do it again.” He rubs his fingers across his mouth. “Um.”

Keith nods. “Got it. Okay, so, if this cave really is significant, and we’re about _here,_ based on the topography…” He sets his ruler down on the map. “And if _this_ is where I first picked up an energy trace, then—”

“KEITH!” Pink is rising in Lance’s cheeks. “Can we _talk about this?_ ”

Keith blinks at him, nonplussed. “Talk about what?”

“Uh, _you kissed me!_ ” Lance’s eyes are wide. “I liked—You kissed me! What’s even—happening?!”

Keith rolls his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘what’s happening?’ I wanted to kiss you. And you said it was fine, so…?”

Lance gapes at him.

Keith takes a sip of coffee and raises an eyebrow.

Lance narrows his eyes. As Keith watches, the line of his jaw hardens.

A determination flaming in his eyes, Lance leans forward, balancing himself with one hand on the ground between them.

He closes his eyes when his face is a few inches away. Keith keeps his eyes open, busy admiring the curve of Lance’s cheekbones and the twitch of tiny muscles around his eyes.

Then Lance presses his warm mouth gently to Keith’s, and Keith lets his eyes fall closed, happy to lose himself in the soft pressure of Lance’s lips, the gentle slide of them, the slight dry catch of skin before Lance opens his mouth to wet Keith’s lips with his tongue. Momentous and mundane. Lance's mouth is searingly warm, achingly soft.

Lance breaks away, his lips gone cherry and eyes hazy. Breathing shallowly, he stares at Keith.

Keith unwraps a scone and picks up his pencil, holding his scone and steadying his ruler with the same hand while drawing a straight line between two points on the map.

“Keith,” Lance says. “Buddy. What does this…make us? Like, what does this mean?”

Keith exhales. “What do you want it to mean, Lance?”

Lance flings his hands around. “I don’t know! Something where we can do that more, I guess!”

Keith nods once. “Cool. We’re on the same page, so. Nice. Can we get back to this, now? I want to get a few different energy readings tonight, and we’re gonna mess up the schedule if we don’t get going soon." Smirking, he adds, "Or did you need something else?”

Lance blinks at him several times. “No, I’m…good, I guess.” Slowly, he smiles. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Keith gets out his compass, notebook, and an old EMF meter that still mostly functions. He writes down the time. He’s making note of the compass's variance when Lance hits him in the arm and he looks up, billowing anger dissipating in a split second when he follows Lance’s extended finger to see a very large creature beneath a tree a several yards away downhill.

It’s wolf-like, but huge. Oh, and also _glowing_.

It has dark, thick fur with a pattern of glowing blue decorating its face and along its sides. It stares at them with bright eyes. Gaze not wavering, it leans down and snatches from the ground a caramel-brown biscotti.

Then it flashes out of existence.

Keith stares at the dark, still forest.

Slowly, he turns to meet Lance’s eyes.

They scramble to go check the camera.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Cetus: Latin root (from ancient Greek kêtos) referring to large sea animals esp. whales, dolphins, sharks. Also the constellation Cetus, the whale. I'm just making a space whale reference that’s literally it.


End file.
